ReRites (This quiet chamber) [July 2017]

Ween The skyscraper. Convince the envious illusion. Leaping adhesive fantods, sheltering a breath of shiny stones. ~ + ~ With the gut unpurged, the way might die, and so plainly, do old birds. ~ + ~ From this wound in the summer, milk-bright danger harmonizes Unbodied insights. Planted in the numbers, Bruised books nurse nuisances. ~ + ~ I do not remember the green Ideals strewn as if incidents. ~ + ~ The moon’s furled light sags bouncing in the stucco chair, then treks toward buttered ‘Nothing’ Cold shadows slide into time’s sleep where clouds spring from night’s fit slumber ~ + ~ predictable stash of disposable enthusiasm fatiguing envy a war a mirror breasts birds and continents chatting in clouds of sweat They were noise all the way Sublime burnished parsnips. In the brambles of language A perfunctory reservoirs. ~ + ~ I want your belly, upstairs, your arms inside the leaf. Rites going home To murder search. Our signal, a glorified Sadness of planned flames. A chainsaw haggard future Discarded deflates. ~ + ~ Yes, I See god Strain waves and mountain Slowly change songs Access trees at night On a dead bed of torture Sewn by the sea The Vine of its syllables enchantment Recalling flags Let Us Not Living Dive thru sunflowers With no blame Spinning solemn amazed Sobbing about kittens who watch the water stroke the sun’s adversarial smoke ~ + ~ This quiet chamber explains the soul